Sing

Yes I too thought the moon sang strange that night.

palm to palm

Sole to sole

Pole to pole

I think I looked away
but felt your stare like a touch
a constant pin prick one gets used to
and rue over
when the pressure leaves.
but you didn't leave us that night
the moon and I.

I only picked you up

to lay you back down

to see

if you’d hurt.

Whenever I read Marquez,

it's as if a big tropical bird
were to, in a flurry of colour,
make violent love to my window.
And then when beaten- wingless,
and breath still airborne-weightless;
we would gaze at each other:
heads cocked in wonder.